About Borneo

In just about 48 hours I'll be on my way to Borneo. Although most people still associate Borneo with headhunters, I'm reasonably certain I'll be back with at least most of my head still intact.

"Why Borneo?" you might be asking...

"Isn't it a little...out of the way? Come to think of it, where the heck is Borneo anyway???"

Borneo is the third largest island in the world (quick, name the two largest...). It's located right on the equator, north of Java Indonesia and southwest of the Philippines. It's divided between three countries: Malaysia, Indonesia and Brunei. I'll be going to the states of Sarawak and Sabah in Malaysian Borneo.

The main reason I chose Borneo is because I love monkeys and this is one of only two places in the world where it's possible to see orangutans in the wild (the other is Sumatra, Indonesia). Reddish-brown orangutans, the only species of great ape found outside of Africa, are in critical danger of becoming extinct. They're one of the most intelligent species of primates; the word "orangutan" means "forest-man" in Malay.

I'm sure you'll hear more about orangutans later but in the meantime, I've learned a lot about Borneo before even leaving home! Here are some very interesting facts I've discovered while researching this trip:

• The Borneo rainforest is the oldest in the world (70 million years older than the Amazon)
• Borneo is one of the most biodiverse places on earth: 220 species of mammals, 420 species of birds, 700 species of trees and 15,000 species of flowering plants. Nearly 400 new plant and animal species have been discovered here since 1996!
• The island contains a variety of diverse habitats, from mangrove swamps to rainforest to some of the largest cave systems on earth.
• Along with orangutans there are 12 other species of primates (monkeys) in Borneo. Other unique mammals include the Pygmy Elephant, Sumatran Rhinoceros, Clouded Leopard and Malayan Sun Bear.

And by the way, headhunting ended in the late 19th century during the reign of Britain's James Brooke, aka The White Rajah.

Myanmar photos

If you'd like to see my photos from Yangon and Bagan, go here.

The Land of 1,000 Temples

The ancient city of Bagan, former capital of Burma, is an arid, dusty plain covering about 16 square miles. The ruins of over 2,000 temples and stupas, most dating from the 11th to 13th centuries, dot the landscape. It is a surreal and breathtakingly beautiful place.

Many tourists - myself included - choose to travel around Bagan in one of the hundreds of traditional horse carts. Most of the roads are unpaved, so it is a convenient and inexpensive way to get around. As long as you're not in a hurry. And if you are in a hurry, what the heck are you doing in Bagan anyway???

These horse carts are pretty and quaint, but after about an hour of clomping up and down I was like, "Can we stop at the nearest chiropractor???" It was incredibly uncomfortable no matter which position I shifted myself into.

We stopped in Old Bagan for lunch. At a local market, a young girl was making a toffee-colored candy that she was kneading in rice flour like bread. I decided to buy some, which she weighed using an old-fashioned scale & counterweight system. The girl spoke no English and she giggled constantly through the whole transaction - I don't think many foreigners made purchases from her! I saw these same counterweight scales used everywhere; only at one Yangon market I noticed a woman who had a digital scale, which suddenly looked so...strangely modern! She must have been the envy of the market with her flashy new scale.

I later stopped at a tea shop for some hot sweet tea with milk. I went to use the restroom, and a young boy in the kitchen pointed to a lopsided wooden shed in their backyard. A real outhouse! Except the ceiling was so low I couldn't fit inside... Oh yeah, all the guys in the kitchen found this incredibly amusing. And then I went back and took my seat at the tiny 16-inch high plastic stool. There's a giant in the tea shop!

Trucks and buses were coming into the town that were jam-packed, with people literally hanging out the windows. My horse cart driver explained that they were coming to the full moon festival at Ananda Temple, one of the largest and most famous temples in Bagan. All around the temple a mini-encampment had been set up: families were pitching makeshift tents, cooking, eating and sleeping for 3 or 4 days in anticipation of the upcoming festival.

I really enjoyed the three days I spent in Bagan (although my spine might answer otherwise...). In fact, it was one of my favorite places anywhere.

Before I left home for Myanmar I imagined that the temples of Bagan would be the highlight of my trip. And though they were amazing to see, it was actually the people I encountered that were the highlight of my trip: the three generations of women who followed me around the morning market determined to get me to buy some tanaka, the natural sunscreen women and children wear on their faces... the young man with dark, sad eyes who explained the murals inside a temple, showed me his own paintings, and then sat and drank tea with me... the group of kids selling postcards (does anyone send postcards anymore??) who followed me around a temple, more interested in practicing English than whether or not I bought their postcards... the ancient monk in red robes who I was surprised to find at the top of a crumbling 1,000-year old staircase who twirled a £1 coin in his hand. "Do you know how many dollar for one Pound?" he asked. [People everywhere seemed to have collections of coins from around the world in their pockets, and were always asking if I knew how many dollars a particular coin was worth]. I told the monk I wasn't sure how much. Then he handed me a worn leather journal and asked me to write "what I though about Myanmar."

What I thought about Myanmar? Broken, but beautiful. The people held together by tradition and Buddhism. And hope. I wonder how long that can last?

The Country Formerly Known as Burma

Here I was, all geared up to be sure I called the country "Burma" and not "Myanmar." But every person, every sign, every THING I saw there that used the name called it "Myanmar." Continuing to call it Burma, when even the people who live there do not, seemed a little bit silly.

Arrived from Bangkok in the evening, checked into Traders Hotel, and decided to take a walk around the neighborhood. It was only around 8:00 but virtually everything was closed. Even so, the streets - which were very dark, I don't think there was any street lighting at all - were full of people, especially younger kids. A group of them latched on to me and asked if I wanted a place to eat good local food. I was hungry, and they were friendly and trying to practice English ("where you from?" "America." "Oh, very big country."), so I followed them for a few blocks to a large restaurant with 4 or 5 giant covered pots in front. All of them contained the same rice with chicken pieces that looked totally unappetizing. I sat at a table and as the waiter came over, he shooed a large rat away from under it.

First night: dinner at the hotel.

I tried to eat mostly Burmese (ok, Myanmar) food, particularly the "curries," which all had almost no taste of curry, and were not at all spicy. The food was good but lacked the complexity of Thai or Indian foods. I was very careful about where and what I ate, and in retrospect am glad I didn't eat that chicken and rice the first night, it probably had been sitting in those pots all day.

In many ways, being in Yangon felt like walking through a bombed out city that had been repopulated, but not rebuilt. Many buildings are partially collapsed, or have no doors or windows. The sidewalks were in pieces, with huge gaping holes in them. There seems to be a thick layer of black grime all over just about everything (except the temples). It all gave me the feeling that people were left to pretty much fend for themselves, without much help from the government. And all things considered, it's amazing to see how well they manage.

I especially loved the "telephone booths" - a woman at a table on the sidewalk with 4 or 5 circa 1985 desktop phones patched into the telephone lines. People stop and pick up a phone to make a call. You notice right away that almost no one has a cell phone, which apparently are extremely expensive. Women walk while balancing huge bundles on their heads. Men sit along the roadsides with 40 or 50-year old sewing machines: these are tailor shops, I guess. When the internet worked at the hotel (almost never), most of the sites I was interested in - Gmail, Facebook, and Blogger were all blocked. Oddly, though, The New York Times was not. Apparently in Myanmar it's okay to get news but not okay to report news.

I spent several hours in the evening at Shwedagon Paya, the largest and most important Buddhist site in the country. The temples and pagodas are extraordinary, but watching the hundreds of people come and go was way more interesting. Dusk was beautiful as everyone started lighting candles around the circumference of the giant stupa. But it wasn't the "mind blowing" experience the Lonely Planet guidebook describes. Maybe because it felt very familiar to me - a bit like Boudnath in Kathmandu....or sort of like Doi Suthep in Chiang Mai on steroids. (and here's a tip: You must remove your shoes AND socks before entering any Myanmar temple. if you're going to spend several hours at dusk walking around in bare feet, be sure you put insect repellent on your feet. Trust me...)

Where is this place anyway?

Surprisingly - or maybe not - many people don't know exactly where Burma is. Basically, it's a country about the size of Texas located between Thailand and India.

In 1989, the military government officially changed the English translations of many colonial-era names, including the name of the country to 'Myanmar' and the name of the largest city from Rangoon to Yangon. While some of these name changes are closer to their original Burmese pronunciations, many opposition groups and countries oppose their use because they recognize neither the legitimacy of the ruling military government nor its authority to rename the country or its towns.

So I have chosen to continue to use the name "Burma."

I'm leaving in three more days. I just got back from the bank, where I had to withdraw new, clean, unmarked US dollars as there are no ATMs or credit cards in Burma and only new bills in pristine condition are accepted. Bills starting with the serial number 'CB' also need to be avoided as merchants are suspicious they may be counterfeit. But this is a paranoid country - in 2005 the military began secretly constructing a new capital 200 miles north of Rangoon and moved the government there...at the advice of a fortune teller.

Kyoto Part Two

Last night I saw three real-live actual fully made-up geishas.

The first one was standing at an intersection, apparently waiting for a ride. She was surrounded by about 30 tourists with their cameras (yes, myself included, I'm sad to say), circling her like vultures closing in on their prey. I think she was pretending to herself that they just weren't there. And there was something quite sad about it.

About thirty minutes later, I was walking down a deserted Gion street. The streets in this district are paved with stone, so I noticed the footsteps approaching but didn't really think about it until they got closer and I realized they were the sound of those heavy wooden sandals the geishas wear.

Sort of like a small two-footed horse...

I just stood and watched her pass, I didn't have the heart to whip out my camera on the poor thing.

A few minutes later, I turned a corner and came face-to-painted-white-face with a third geisha. And again I just watched her as she passed by clomping.

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Kyoto has something like several thousand temples, and I've seen quite a few of them in four days. I was really getting temple burnout today. But it was raining, and I didn't want to spend money shopping for useless souveniers (Like I really need a ceramic tea bowl...)

"Oh what the heck, one more temple," I thought.

It was either karmic irony or just very good luck - I saved the most incredible temple for last. Sanjusangen-do is a 700-year old Buddhist temple in southwestern Kyoto. Inside the main hall are 1,000 life-sized sculptures of Kannon, the goddess of mercy. They fill the entire length of the long hall, for as far as you can see.

It was an unexpected and incredibly moving thing to see - especially after the zen austerity of the interiors of most other temples here. I wanted to cry, but I'm not really sure why.

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Other Random Thoughts:

• I never realized before how heavily influenced Frank Lloyd Wright was by Japanese design

• I am loving green tea and mochi, those sweet bean desserts.

• I wanted the sushi here to be way way better than sushi in the U.S. But oddly, it's almost exactly the same.

• Of every Asian city I've been to, I think Kyoto is the one I could live in most easily.

• When you enter any shop or restaurant here, you'll be warmly greeted with "ashamasay!" (welcome!) by every staff person. This even happens in a 7-11. Now think for a moment... when was the last time was that you were greeted by anything other than an annoyed scowl in a 7-11 in the U.S.?
  

• I was riding on a Kyoto city bus. At the next stop, the driver was finished with his shift and a new driver was waiting to board. But before leaving the bus, the first driver turned and humbly bowed to all the passengers. Like, "Thank you for letting me serve you, it was an honor."

Now think for a moment...

Oh never mind, none of you even ride busses anyway.

Japan Photos

some photos from Japan are online here:

Why did I eat that?

Sashimi topped with raw egg.
Slimy, yet satisfying.

Okay, I was really hungry.

Kyoto

The thing about Tokyo for me was that the "big" sites - the Imperial Palace, Tokyo Tower, Tsukiji Fish Market, Ginza, Shibuya - are just not on the same level as the "big" sites in so many other major cities (London, Paris, Bangkok, Hong Kong, New York).

Enough said...I've already been pushing it with the germ thing, I don't want to insult 20 million Japanese, most of whom I'm sure read my blog on a regular basis.

But Kyoto, on the other hand, is wonderful. If Tokyo is neon, glass and steel, Kyoto is wood and stone and leaves.

A quiet tree-lined path along a small canal leads to a nine hundred year-old Zen temple. Stone-paved lanes filled with local craft shops and cafes lead uphill towards the giant cedar gate of a Shinto shrine.

The former capital of Japan is also famous for geishas and tea ceremonies. According to my Kyoto guidebook geishas are "female professional entertainers whose knowledge of traditional arts, skill at verbal repartee, and ability to keep secrets win them the respect and sometimes love of their well-heeled and influential male clients."

Ummm...sure.

I've seen just one fully made up geisha here. I tried to grab for my camera to get a photo, but wherever this chick was headed, she was in a very big hurry. Must be keeping quite the secret...

Well there's more to the story - my story that is, I know nothing else of this fleet-footed geisha. There always is more. Although it may not seem so to those who don't know me, I occasionally do things other than writing this blog and wandering around photographing temples.

I'll leave it at this: Haagen Daas ice cream, a fashion designer, yakitori, and the phrase "have a safe journey" are all prominently involved.

to be continued...

Who Was That Masked Man??

When my flight arrived at Narita Airport, we were delayed at the gate for about 30 minutes while a crew of about 15 medical personnel in white hazmat uniforms (seriously) entered the aircraft and proceeded to take each passenger's temperature.

They passed up and down the aisles with handheld high tech thermal scanners, aiming them ominously at each of us.

The flight attendants had been through this routine before and they were clearly over it. They cranked up the a/c about 15 minutes before landing and announced (only half jokingly) "alright no coughing, sneezing or sniffling while these guys are on board and we should be outta here in half an hour."

American Airlines is so classy!

Each day I think more and more germ-aphobic Japanese are wearing those protective surgical masks. Because the GERMS ARE COMING!!! No wait, they're already here! They're everywhere! That's why you're given a moist towelette to wipe your hands before every meal...even if it's just a Starbucks coffee. That's why you must place your money into the tray next to the cash register, never directly into the shopkeeper's hands. That's why you must remove your germy shoes and wear special germ-free slippers when entering a bathroom. And I guess that's why even a simple apple from the supermarket is nestled in protective foam, and then wrapped in plastic and inserted into another even larger plastic bag when purchased.

Coffee to go? Your cup will be placed into a cardboard cupholder, which is then inserted into a small paper shopping bag. Then the whole package is neatly tucked into an even larger plastic handle bag. Moist towelette included.

Ironically, there is a prominent sign in my hotel room that says:

The Ecological Movement.
We protect the natural environment by decreasing the times of changing sheets and reducing emissions of CO2 by less use of detergent and water for laundry. Thank you for your understanding and cooperation.

The sign is printed on recycled paper with soy-based ink.
And then laminated in thick plastic.

I'm sure the maids spray it down with sanitizer every day, too.

Wierd Sign of the Day

Spaghetti and Cake -
my favorite combo!!

Okay I lied. It was an eleven-hour flight

I imagined when I arrived in Tokyo it would be as if I'd suddenly been dropped down on another planet. I'd find myself in a very foreign place where everything looked, smelled and sounded strange. Where no one understood me and I understood no one. Where I was always lost. In translation. HAHA. Let's get that cliched reference out of the way right now.

But I wanted that.

I love that feeling of suddenly being in a place that makes me think, "We're not in Kansas anymore."

Tokyo, after four days, is surprisingly not that place. Tokyo is clean and civilized and polite. Almost all directional signs are in Japanese and English. The notoriously "difficult" Tokyo subway system is actually quite similar to that of New York - and possibly easier to use because everything is color-coded and numbered, so even an illiterate, unless he suffered from color-blindness, could easily find his way around.

And everywhere you notice how clean it is. Ironically, I walked for ten blocks today with an empty coffee cup before I finally saw a trash receptacle. Where do they put their trash? This is really a mystery to me.

It's not that I don't like it here. The narrow streets around Shinjuku are very atmospheric. The two major Shinto temples, Meiji-jingu and Senso-ji, are amazing - and so different from Southeast Asian buddhist temples... so much wood and symmetry. Japanese men can be strikingly beautiful. The food is excellent, and it's also familiar: sushi, sashimi, teriyaki, tempura, yakitori, udon, soba.

And people generally seem quite happy. I've seen lots of smiles. I'm suspecting this could be related to the perky ice-cream truck jingle that plays each time the subway doors open. Can you imagine how something like that would go over in New York??

But I don't want to see another Starbucks or Banana Republic (Ever. Anywhere). I'm just wanting to be more... excited, I guess. And maybe moved.

Feeding the Ghost

On the way to Pai, we stopped at a nondescript roadside stand that is famous for making Thailand's best sai-ua (Chiang Mai style spicy sausage). We bought sausage, sticky rice, and nam prik (roasted green chilis), and pulled over along the side of the road to eat.

Dom took a clump of sticky rice, shaped it into a mound, stuck a piece of sausage onto it, and handed it to me.

"Take this and go put on the ground. Don't throw, be careful, and after you put down, do like this."

He lifted his hands and bowed his head in a praying gesture.

And I probably looked a little confused.

"Thai people, when we eat near the road, we need to give some food first for ghost. Have many ghost they live here."

"Okay."

I carefully placed the rice on the grass, making a little praying motion, and then we started to eat (and this, by the way, was one of the most incredibly delicious meals I've had in my life, definitely worth flying 17 hours for). Within minutes, a mangy cream colored dog came trotting along the road towards us. He spotted the sausage on the ground, headed straight for it and gobbled it down.

"Hmm...is that the ghost?" I sort of jokingly asked.

"I don't know. Can be."

We ate until we couldn't eat anymore, and then we fed the rest to the dog. Whether he was a ghost or not, I don't know. But that scraggly dog appeared out of nowhere on a deserted road at exactly the right time. Remember that the next time you're about to eat in your car.

Weird Sign of the Day

Christmas in Thailand - Part Two

Melly Kissmas Tlee!!!

An elderly man approached me on the street in Chiang Mai this afternoon and said this to me with all sincerity.

Being a Buddhist country, Thailand does not celebrate Christmas. An unknowing visitor may find this hard to believe, however, with the millions of flashing holiday lights, the tuk-tuk drivers wearing Santa hats, and the Christmas carols blaring from every store doorway.

For Christmas dinner last night, I went with Dom's family for moo-ga-taa, which is sort of like Korean hot pot, only much cheaper. All the meat and seafood you can eat for about $3.75 per person, which you grill at your own table. I had the honor of grilling an octopus (which barely put up a fight). It was slightly disturbing how much I enjoyed hacking its charred little legs off with a cleaver afterwards...

Earlier in the day we rented a motorbike and drove up to Wat Doi Suthep temple, which is on the mountain overlooking the city. I try to visit this temple every time I come to Chiang Mai because it is one of the most extraordinary places in Thailand. It's one of the holiest Buddhist sights in this part of the country.

The story is that Doi Suthep was built in this remote mountaintop location because a rare white elephant, carrying a relic of the Buddha, was chosen to select a site for this important temple. The elephant made its way to the top of this mountain and, when it reached this particular site, lay down and died.

The degree of faith you see here - from people of all ages - is very moving. It is customary to hold a single lotus flower between one's palms and circle the main stupa three times. Offerings of incense are made, and monks are available for blessings. You can hang a small brass bell from the edges of the rooftops. When the wind blows, it is believed that your wish will be carried into heaven by the sound of the bell ringing.

Tomorrow we're renting a car and driving north to the village of Pai, in the remote mountains near the Burmese border - the land of elephants, indigenous hill tribes, and (gasp!) opium. Sounds adventurous, I know, but honestly, I'm looking forward to just laying in a hammock under a shady tree for an afternoon.

Christmas in Thailand - Part One

I realize that technically, it's not Christmas yet. Okay...Advent in Thailand... Hanukkah in Thailand!

It's impossible to avoid thinking about the thousands of people who were stranded here a few weeks ago when the airport was closed. Not to downplay the incredible inconvenience of that - or for those with emergencies, even worse - but being stuck in Bangkok would be a bit like being stuck in Manhattan. Anything you could possibly want is available day or night, and possibly just outside your door. Need some silverware? A pair of shoes? Spare part for that '68 Mustang? A potato, maybe? Someone on the street outside will be selling it.

For less than $60 a night I a have a beautifully renovated apartment (with washer/dryer), daily maid service, gym, pool, and breakfast included...just 3 blocks from the Skytrain and river taxi. As I head from the 16th floor down to the street, I am saluted by the elevator attendant. "Good morning sir!" I pass a maid in the hallway who wais and bows graciously to me. "Good morning sir!" The bellman salutes me as I pass the reception desk."Good morning sir!" "The doorman rushes to open the door for me."Good morning sir!"

I leave all this behind as I step through the gate onto the small soi in front of the building. The air fills with the scents of dried fish, diesel fumes, and barbecued pork.

Suddenly, a stranger sound. "Baaaaaaa"

And again, louder "BAAAAAA!"

A young boy is walking in the street with a lamb. On a leash.

This is so cute - and unusual - I ask if I can take a photo. As soon as I have the camera out, three more boys appear with another lamb. They all ham it up (lamb it up?) and we take pictures and laugh.

But as I walk away the inevitable thought occurs to me....Pets? Or dinner?

Restrooms for All in the Land of Smiles

Transgender-tolerant Thailand has opened what may be the world's first "transvestite toilet." Not in the heart of Bangkok's gay Silom Road area, but at a high school in the rural northeast's Sisaket province.

“These students want to be able to go to the restroom in peace without fear of being watched, laughed at or groped,” said school director Sitisak Sumontha.

Known affectionately as "Ladyboys" in Thailand, transgender and transvestite people are regularly seen working in bars, restaurants, department stores and on various television shows.

Nepal Photos

UPDATED: Photos from Nepal are online here. Click the slideshow link at the top right, or just view them individually.

Trapped

Okay, I am so exaggerating. But I do like the attention-grabbing sound of that.

Yesterday, traffic was back to normal. Buses and delivery trucks were all back on the roads, kicking up dust and spewing diesel exhaust.

But "normal" is a relative term. We drove past a gas station where the gate was padlocked shut and under police guard. The line of vehicles waiting for gas stretched for almost a mile and was sometimes 2 and 3 cars wide.

Severe gas shortages, rising bus fares and on-again off-again valley-wide transportation strikes... Something has got to boil over here soon.

Now today another general strike has been called to protest the fare increase. All vehicles are to remain off the roads, meaning that schools, offices and most businesses once again will not be opening. Anyone attempting to drive will find angry stone-throwing mobs blocking roads with piles of burning tires.

Why is this not being covered by the U.S. news media?

But anyway, back to the topic... I'm stuck here at my hotel since getting a taxi, car or any other type of vehicle today is out of the question. The center of town is about a three and a half mile walk. Which I did consider. But I've yet to see a street sign here and have no idea if I could even find my way there - and back.

So I walked back over to the village of Boudha. There were lots more Tibetan monks around than last time, many of them quite young. I visited a couple monasteries (called "gompas") and talked with a few of the kids, who were really quite shy - I think maybe due to the language difficulty.

During a sudden downpour, one older (and very cute) monk and I shared a corner alcove to stay dry. He invited me to come see his monastery.

In my experience with monks, this usually means mischief is afoot.

And it was (but no sexual advances this time). When he had me light butter lamps and then we posed together for a lame photo, I knew it was only a matter of minutes before he'd be asking for money. Luckily, an elderly Tibet gentleman was watching all of this and came up to me quietly and said, "Don't give money for him. Him cheating!"

I beat him to the punch by putting 50 rupees in the temple donation box, so that when he did ask a few minutes later ("So I can go home to Lhasa..."), I already gave, and was off the hook.

I really like this little village and imagine that if I were an exiled Tibetan, I wouldn't mind at all living there.

Nepal is a very multi-sensory place. The people have a humble warmth. Their greeting is namaste ("I see god in you").

I've posted quite a few photos from the past few days. I hope you enjoy seeing them, but I'm sorry that you're not going to smell the juniper and sandalwood burning, the omnipresent scent of human body odor, or the occasional overwhelming stench of rotting garbage. You won't hear the prayer flags flapping in the wind, the bells that 'ping' at the hundreds of shrines in the Old City. Or the children's' laughter. Which, in spite of the difficulties these people are facing, seems to be everywhere.

Fire and Ice

1. Ice

Buddha Air Flight 101 is an hour-long sightseeing flight northeast from Kathmandu to the highest peaks of the Himalayas, and back again. It is also possibly the world's most breathtaking airplane ride.

I didn't have high hopes for seeing much of anything this morning. A low layer of thick grey clouds started forming about 30 minutes before our flight. But once we got above 10,000 feet, jagged peaks began appearing in the distance, bursting through the cloud cover.

We headed further northeast and up even higher. "Now you see Everest on the left," the flight attendant announced. There is no charge for the flight if you fail to see Everest, so they do make a very clear point of letting you know that you're seeing it.

The pilot took us closer as one by one, each passenger was invited up to the cockpit for a better view. The clouds suddenly dissipated as it was my turn to go up front. The plane banked to the left and a massive wall of snow and ice appeared directly in front of us, with all 29,029 feet of Mt. Everest at the center.

Coming here at the start of the monsoon season, I expected to be trudging around in torrential downpours every day... and never thought I would get even a glimpse of a mountain, let alone the spectacular view I had this morning. I am so grateful for this experience. Nepal has been so much more than I ever imagined or expected.


2. Fire

"I've never seen anything like that before," was pretty much all I could manage to say to my taxi driver after spending about an hour at Pashupatinath Temple in Kathmandu.

On the banks of the Bagmati River, it is the most important Hindu site in Nepal. In addition to a meandering group of Hindu temples, a row of stone cremation ghats line one side of the river. Today they were being used in full force. On the first three platforms, bodies were burning in various stages of... Let's just say one was quite rare, one was medium and one was very, very well-done.

The smoke billowed up, but the bodies are burnt with so much fragrant wood and herbs that the smell is almost... almost not bad.

Further up the river another cremation had just begun. A woman's body wrapped in colorful fabrics was placed on thick slabs of wood. Dried bundles of sage grass were lit at each corner of the ghat. One by one, four balding middle-aged men stepped onto the platform, removed their shirts and symbolically tossed them into the river, where they were quickly swept away with the current

They circled the body three times, each of them touching the woman's feet. Then the first man (was he her husband?) was given a flaming wooden torch, which he matter-of-factly brought down onto the woman's head.

They stepped off the ghat, more wood was gathered, people came and went, four monkeys scampered up and down the temple steps. And, for the rest of us, life went on.

Far Away

Things were not looking good.

Suraj, the driver from my hotel was waiting for me outside the arrivals terminal at Kathmandu airport.

"Unfortunately we can not go to the hotel just now. They're begun throwing rocks at the cars."

"They" are crowds of students protesting a recent 50% increase in bus fares. A transportation strike has been in effect for about a week, with only private vehicles allowed on the roads. This, along with radical Maoist rebels gaining more political control of the government, has thrown the already troubled country of Nepal - one of the world's poorest - into a state of near anarchy.

No one was leaving the airport except a string of white UN Peacekeeping SUVs.

My first thought was, "Can I make it onto the return flight to Bangkok today?"

My second thought was... stay.

(Actually, my second thought was, "please god don't ever make me have to fly somewhere on Yeti Airlines." Is there also a Saskwatch Airlines somewhere?)

"We must wait here for some time because right now it's not safe. It's just bad luck, I'm afraid," Suraj said. "Would you like some tea?"

The various hotel van drivers, rickshaw drivers, their cousins, uncles and friends were all on cellphones, communicating amongst each other which roads might and might not be safe. After about an hour it was determined that we would attempt the drive to the hotel, and if things... turned bad... we would turn around and return.

We made the short drive to the hotel without incident. Perhaps the homemade 'TOURISTS ONLY' sign in the van window protected us.

I didn't travel to the other side of the world to sit in a hotel room, so later that afternoon I walked to the nearby village of Boudha, home to one of the world's largest Tibetan exile communities. Along the muddy dirt paths, children were riding bikes, mothers in traditional saris were walking with babies, shopkeepers were selling fresh vegetables and handmade metalworks.

In the center of Boudha is the Boudhanath Stupa, one of the largest in the world and one of Nepal's most important Buddhist sites. Every afternoon beginning around 5:00, the local villagers, many in traditional Tibetan dress, and red-robed monks from the areas' several monasteries begin circumambulating the stupa.

Eventually hundreds of people are walking clockwise again and again around the giant monument: chanting, spinning prayer wheels, or just chatting with friends and neighbors. It's a ritual that is repeated nightly and it's powerful, magical and also quite charming.

Thunderclouds rolled in and I walked away from the crowds and back towards the hotel.

"I am so far away right now," I thought. And I knew I made the right decision to stay in Nepal.

Addiction

My name is John and I'm a mango-holic.

I admit it. I am powerless over mangos.

I'm not talking about those grapefruit sized red-green pulpy-tangy Mexican mangos we get in California. It's Thai mangos that have brought me to the point of surrender.

Did you know there are over 15 varieties of Thai mango? Neither did I, and quite honestly I don't especially care... as long as I can have some and then have some MORE.

Cocaine? Who needs it? Sweeter than candy and so juicy they almost melt in your mouth, these little yellow devils are the food of the gods.

Some of you more faithful readers may recall my recent love affair with Macanese egg tarts. Well forget it. We're through.

I admit that mangos have made my life unmangeable.

After over 16 hours on a plane (and 3 more inside the hellhole known as Tom Bradley International Terminal at LAX), I've gotten my fix. I am back in Bangkok, home to the world's truly perfect food - mango with sticky rice, or khao niaow mamuang - slices of sweet ripe mango over warm, chewy, slightly salty rice, and topped with sweet coconut milk and crispy mung beans.

A little family-run shop called Khao Niaow Korpanich on Tanao Road in Bangkok has been perfecting this Thai dessert for over 75 years. They're designed primarily for takeout, but they understand us mango-holics: if they see you've got that crazed must-have-mango-now look in your eye, they'll clear off a bench and let you eat it right there.

Weird Sign of the Day

Okay, I realize it's not especially weird... but are all those letters really necessary???

Western vs. Asian

Thai Culture 101

This is from an icon series titled "East Meets West," designed by Chinese artist Liu Young.

Blue = Western
Red = Asian

OPINION

WAY OF LIFE

PUNCTUALITY

CONTACTS

ANGER

WAITING IN LINE (QUEUING)

ME

SUNDAYS OUT

PARTY

RESTAURANT VOLUME

TRAVELING

HANDLING PROBLEMS

3 MEALS A DAY

ELDERLY

THE BOSS

TRENDY RESTAURANT

THE CHILD